


Spoons

by PaperCrowns



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:08:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCrowns/pseuds/PaperCrowns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm...” engaged, she thinks. </p>
<p>Wait. What? Where the hell did that come from? </p>
<p>---<br/>Post-S5. Spoiler-free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spoons

This guy has a tall, slim build, sandy hair and a lopsided smile she's sure she'd've remembered.

_Must be from the second curse...or third._

At that moment, Emma realizes just how little she knows the people of this town anymore. 

When she walked into Granny’s to place her order, she noticed the way he annoyingly drummed his spoon between the coffee cup and saucer. He noticed her badge – and probably something else. 

Now he's asking her something about zoning laws that she doesn't really know the answer to when he pauses with a soft chuckle.

“I can tell by the look on your face you have no idea what I'm talking about.” 

Before she has time to wipe off whatever dim look is plaguing her, the guy continues.

“How 'bout I give you some time to find my answer, and we can discuss it later? Like over dinner tonight?”

“Huh?” she says, her brain is still stuck on ‘zoning laws’ ( _Who would ask the cops about that?_ ), when, “Oh. You're asking me out.”

_Someone who doesn't know her whole life story. That's a new one._

Her hand immediately goes to the ring around her neck, thumb subconsciously rubbing at the smooth stone. 

“I'm...” _engaged_ , the word flashes across her mind's eye. 

_Wait. What? Where the hell did that come from?_

Guy is still looking back at her expectantly, when she snaps back to reality. 

“Uh, sorry. I-I'm seeing someone.” 

To save him from the embarrassed recovery forming on the tip of his tongue, she quickly follows with, 

“Yeah, you might find some more competent people down at city hall. Cuter too.” 

Ruby comes to the rescue by yelling out her order, which Emma then hastily grabs off the counter, practically running out the door.

***

“Lunch is served.”

Emma tosses the brown paper roughly onto the island counter of Mary-Margaret’s loft. As she rummages through the bag pulling out an array of takeout containers, Snow mixes up a jar of baby food with cereal. Snow subtly studies her daughter, but not subtly enough for Emma to miss the sloppy spoonful of goop that doesn’t quite make it to little Neal’s mouth. The hungry baby chomps at the spoon while Snow stares on obliviously.

“What?” Emma freezes. 

“Nothing, you just look a little flustered.” 

_Damn mother’s intuition._

With an exasperated sigh, she opens up. 

“Some guy at Granny's asked me out.” 

“Uh-huh?” Snow gives her usual attempt at nonchalance, eyeing Emma while her head remains turned down towards the baby food.

“What do you think about me and Hook?” The question comes bubbling out, and Snow perks up. 

“Uh, I think after all we've been through, now's not the best time to be questioning your relationship.”

“I'm not _questioning_ it. It’s not what you think. I…almost told the guy I was engaged. Which I’m not, by the way.” She stumbles through the words then puts her mouth out of its misery with an unladylike bite of grilled cheese. 

“Well, you did drag us all to hell and vow to split your heart in two so that you could have a future with him. It’s not exactly a giant leap to make.” 

_Uggh._

Snow looks up from cleaning Neal’s face to see the pained expression creeping into Emma’s features. 

“Emma, sweetie, you're panicking a bit, and that’s perfectly normal. You've been running on empty for weeks and now that things have settled down, you’re going to have to make some decisions.”

“I know I want to be with him, that's not the issue. I guess I just didn't think about what would happen after we got him back.”

“Didn't you?” Snow lets the question sink in. “Emma, I think you know what you want. I think you told yourself as much at Granny’s.” 

Emma notices Snow’s gaze drift downward and _crap_. She’s fiddling with the ring. Emma quickly removes her treacherous fingers and grabs a fry. 

“Sure, I want it eventually. But we agreed to take things one day at a time. I can’t just tell him I almost told a stranger we were getting married. I mean, we’re both still moving past the whole being-filled-with-darkness-and-trying-to-kill-each-other thing.” 

“Trust me there is no good time to consider these things, especially for the residents of Storybrooke. If you feel it – and you clearly do – you just have to jump in. Be honest with yourself. You know what can happen if you wait too long.” 

Emma gulps at Mary Margaret’s implication. Then as if the conversation is finally catching up with her, and not wanting to fully acknowledge the advice of her romantically inclined mother, she pauses. 

“And you're okay with this? We’re talking about Captain Hook as a son-in-law, here.” 

“Believe it or not, I made peace with your relationship long ago. When you stood in that very spot and told me you wanted to share your heart with him _in every possible way_ , I knew that you must love Hook as much as I love your father. And that is all I've ever wanted for you.” 

Snow turns to the highchair and sees the baby starting to doze. 

“As long as that’s what you want too,” she adds, lifting Neal to rest against her shoulder. “But there _is_ another person involved in this. If what happened at Granny’s is really affecting you this much, you should talk to your boyfriend.” 

Snow carries Neal to his bassinet when Emma quietly huffs in acknowledgment. Quick to quash further discussion of other uncomfortable and mushy topics, Emma turns and narrows her eyes at her mother. 

“Hey, are you and Dad even legally married in this realm?”

“We may have fixed that minor issue when we cast the second curse.”

***

It’s the early evening and Killian is still off running whatever errand David or Belle or Marco has him on this time. As Emma’s barreling around the corner of the living room wondering if Henry decided to stay at Regina’s tonight, she stops in her tracks. ‘Cause there's her kid, sitting at the dining table staring at his calculator, an open jar of peanut butter at his elbow.

_Angelic as always._

“Hey,” she crosses the threshold, coming to stand above him, “how's the homework coming?” 

“What is it?” 

“What's what?” 

Henry abandons his work and looks at Emma, taking a significant breath before speaking.

“You're a pretty observant person, so I know you noticed this calculator sitting on the table. Which means you know I'm working on my math homework. I'm pretty observant too, and I noticed that every time I’m doing math, you leave the room as fast as possible 'cause you're afraid I'll ask for help.”

“You got me there, kid. I suck at math.” 

“I know. So for you to be standing here right now means you wanna talk. What's up?” 

Emma almost protests, but thinks better of it. He’s right, after all. 

“How do you think things are going here...with all of us?” She broaches the subject tentatively. 

“Well Hook’s not nearly as annoying to live with as I thought he'd be, and I've only walked in on the two of you making out once, so I'd say things are going pretty good.”

“You don't miss it being just you and me?”

“Mom, what‘s this about?” Henry says, able to see through her fishing. 

“I'm just...making sure you're happy.” 

“As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.” 

He smiles at her before reaching for the peanut butter and for a moment, Emma sees the round face of the 10-year-old who showed up at her door those years ago. 

_Angelic alright._

After few seconds of digging into the near-empty jar, Henry stops abruptly, spoon poised in hand. 

“Are you pregnant?” 

“What?! No. _No_. Really, kid, I've just been thinking about our future and what'll fit in it.” 

She angles out the chair next to her son and plops down. 

“Or _who_ 'll fit in it? Maybe permanently?” 

“Got me again.” 

“You’re pretty easy to read. Here,” Henry sets aside his snack and scoots his chair towards Emma, “I have an idea. Close your eyes.” 

She gives him a doubtful glance. 

“Just do it.”

With an inward sigh, she lets her lids fall. 

“’Kay.”

“Okay, now forget about everything and relax. Picture being in this house...five years from now. What's it like? I'll be 19, you'll be –“

“Hey! I know how old I'll be.”

“Jeez, sorry. Five years, what do you see?”

“Hopefully some more deputies in this town so I can actually have a day off.” 

Henry growls at her. _Someone’s serious today._

“Alright, fine. I see you...coming home from college for Sunday breakfast. Uh...Mary Margaret and David running all over the place trying to keep up with Neal while he’s spilling orange juice from room to room. Oh and look! Big Foot comes barging in trying to steal all our bacon and destroy the town!”

She cracks one eyelid to find her son with a raised brow. 

“Really, Mom?” The kid is not amused. “ _And_?” 

“And...I see Killian,” she answers softly. “Burning the pancakes.” 

Emma opens her eyes fully, the response earning a look of satisfaction. 

“See, it's not so bad,” he says. 

“What's not?” 

“Letting yourself have hopes for the future. It's how I found you.”

He smiles again and she could not love this kid any more right now. 

“The whole town thinks you’re basically married anyway.” 

“ _Not the whole town_ ,” she mumbles and Henry’s brow furrows. Before he can ask, Emma interjects, “Hey, and who said ‘marry’?” 

“It’s not what you said. It’s what you didn’t say. I’m observant, remember?” 

“You know, I hate when it feels like you're better at taking care of me than I am of you.” 

“That's not possible.”

With a ruffle of his hair, Emma gets up for her seat, determined to get in a nap before work. 

“Good luck with those equations.” 

“Thanks, but unlike you, I’m usually good at math.” 

She chuckles on her way to the stairs. 

“And Mom?” he waits for her to spin around. “I missed a lot of school while we were in the underworld, so if I have to repeat 8th grade, it better not be for nothing.”

***

They’re just sitting down to dinner, spoons clinking against bowls of hot chili, when Emma kisses them both on their heads as she prepares for a night at the station. With a final remark about not staying up too late playing video games, she’s out the door, leaving the men of the house alone.

It isn't long after the sound of the front door slamming reverberates through the house that Henry drops his utensil to look sternly at the man across the table. 

“Are you going to propose to my mom or what?” 

“Henry, what are you...” Killian too lowers his spoon, shaking his head in confusion. 

“Phase 2 of Operation Light Swan?” 

“Ah. That was long ago, my boy. Much has changed. I'm afraid now might not be the most opportune moment.” 

“So things got a little off-track. Everything's back to normal now.”

“Be that as it may, I'm less than optimistic of any potential overture. Your mother wasn't very receptive of the idea back in Camelot. Our courtship has only become more, ehm” – he gestures with his hand, looking for some singular word that could possibly encapsulate what they’ve been through – “ _complicated_ since then.” 

“I get you guys are still trying to figure stuff out. But maybe proposing would make things easier. Give us all…something to look forward to.” 

“A lady’s hand should never be seen as the solution to a problem – you remember that, lad.” He looks pointedly at the young man. “Now what's with the sudden persistence, eh?” 

“Uh, nothing. I just wanna see you guys happy.” 

“Why, Henry, I'm quite touched,” he postures with a goofy smile. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Henry rolls his eyes. “Personally, if I have to live with a pirate, I’d rather it be Jack Sparrow. But my mom loves you, so I guess it's okay. Plus, I've only got 4 years left till college.” 

“Oi, if I could but go one day in this household without the mention of that vexatious Sparrow.”

Killian’s mock frustration earns him a snicker from the boy. 

“But seriously. She might be more receptive than you think. Think about it.” 

“Your perspective is greatly appreciated. Now finish up. I believe my luck is about to change on this Halo pursuit of yours.”

***

After a tedious 6-hour shift catching up on years of forgotten paperwork, Emma feels totally justified in heading home a little early. Nothing ever happens in Storybrooke after 2 A.M., and if it does, it’s probably happening to her. The whole town has her number, anyway.

Diner guy’s face suddenly pops into her head at the thought. 

_Ice-cream. Definitely need ice-cream._

Emma grabs the dessert and spoon mindlessly. She takes her first gratifying bite while failing not to think about that afternoon’s incident. And Snow. And Henry. And Hook. _And_ she’s thumbing the ring again. 

_Really?_

With an annoyed grunt, she plunges her spoon further into the carton of mint chip. Mere moments later, she hears the heavy footsteps of her boyfriend coming down the stairs. He turns the corner to look at her with sleepy eyes. 

“Sorry I woke you up,” she says, undulating the cold, empty spoon between her lips. 

“This old house creaks like the Jolly,” he drowsily responds.

Emma smiles and swallows uncomfortably before turning her attention back to her ice cream. She feels herself staring while her mind takes her back into her previous contemplation. 

“What seems to be troubling you?” Hook halts her reverie. 

_Can’t catch a break today._

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” 

“You only bring out the frozen cream when something’s on your mind,” he smiles. 

Emma opens her mouth only to close it again. After a beat, she speaks. 

“Do you ever think about forever?” 

Hook’s face settles and Emma wishes she hadn’t said anything. 

“I lived for centuries, then died, _then_ was brought back to life, and now I'm aging like an ordinary man. I’d say the concept has crossed my mind.” 

_Guess that was a stupid question._

“What of forever? Are you perhaps considering the future yet again?” His voice is playful, but she can see his hesitancy. 

And maybe it’s the fact that it’s the middle of the night and she’s borderline delirious that makes her want to push forward, past her discomfort, and be honest. Or that Killian’s looking at her with earnest eyes and insanely messy hair. Maybe it’s simply that he’s _here_. That he’s here standing in their kitchen, and her heart can still feel the ache of those few hours when she believed her future would have to be without him. 

Or that she _keeps touching that damn ring._

“Yeah. The Future.” 

She looks into his eyes and, _oh God_ , he’s making that face like he’s bracing for the fall. No doubt thinking back to when she first screwed up this whole ‘future’ thing. Yep. This is still a sensitive topic. 

“Killian, _no_. I’m not,” she reaches for his hand, “I’m happy. I’ve just been thinking about our next step – or if there even is one.” 

With a squeeze, she lets go. She leans into the counter, allowing it to support the weight of her body and her thoughts. 

“Henry made me realize that the last time I let myself hope for something – to be in this house, just like this – it was taken away. I had to fight harder than I've ever fought to get it back, to get _you_ back. So to hope for more than this, right here as things are now – which is really, _really_ good – scares me.” 

“More, Swan?” 

“A happily-ever-after, marriage or whatever.” She rushes through the words she’d been trying desperately to avoid. 

Suddenly her pirate is wide awake, eyebrows quirked tauntingly, tongue darting out between his lips. 

“I picked you up from the underworld, it shouldn’t be that surprising,” she flatly responds to his change in appearance. 

“And, don't get me wrong,” – she continues – “I'd fight for all this again if I had to. But I can't always win. Even if I am the savior. Camelot proved that. So when I picture the future, it’s hard for me to see anything but another battle.” 

Hook’s face softens while he moves to stand closer to Emma. 

“Life is always a battle, love. Magical realms and saviors, or not. What changes are the people fighting beside you. And I am prepared to stay by your side for as long as you shall have me, fighting for _our_ future. Whether that be contending against a demon or… an overly dramatic dwarf.” 

She’s sure she’s looking at him slack-jawed and eyes overflowing with awe, because he looks away shyly then adds, 

“Unless, of course, you kill me again.” 

“Not funny.” They laugh as Emma smacks his arm. “Want some mint chip?” She reaches for her spoon. 

“I’d rather not partake in this particular nighttime habit of yours.” 

“You’re not gonna last long in this house with that attitude.” She smirks and he jokingly rolls his eyes. 

“Alright then, hand it over.” 

Hook takes the loaded spoon from her fingers and guides it to his mouth. He swirls the cold confection around his mouth letting it dissolve. Emma then scoops out her own spoonful. They stand finishing what’s left in the ice-cream container. It’s a calm between them that Emma has come to revel in these past months. 

“Well now,” Hook interrupts the silence, “I think the most significant information gleaned from this little talk is that _you_ want to marry me. Quite astonishing considering your reaction the last time I pulled out a ring in front of you,” he teases with a tilt of his head and a twitch of his brow. 

“Like I said, hell and back, not surprising.” She gives him nothing but a coy nibble of her lips as she hums into her next words. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you wanna marry me more.” 

“Mm, I d'know. As you said, you _did_ follow me to the underworld.” 

“Yeah, and you followed me back in time,” Emma looks up with squinted eyes, summoning the memories forward. “And to Neverland. And New York. _And_ Camel–” 

“Yes, Swan, you win. I'm clearly much more devoted.”

He blushes and she could not love this man any more right now. 

“You're right. I do win.” Emma smiles, and a flood of affection nearly drowns her. She stretches just far enough to gently take Killian’s lips in her own.

“Come on,” she grabs his arm, moving his resting form off the counter and towards the stairs, “let's go to bed.” 

They’re at the bottom of the staircase when Hook’s feet stop moving. 

“Do this evening’s reflections have anything to do with the fellow who approached you at Granny's?”

“How did you…” Emma turns to him, befuddled. 

“You know that Ruby.” 

“Oh, what big ears she has,” Emma quips, shuffling up the stairs as Hook follows. 

“Aye, and an even bigger mouth.” He stops again. “You can wear it.” 

Emma looks to him confused once more. 

“The ring, I mean.” He nods to the dangling jewelry. “On your hand, if you would like. To prevent any further propositions by spindly men.” 

“Spindly, huh? I think Ruby was trying to protect your feelings, ‘cause he was pretty hot.” She gives an eyebrow raise of her own. 

“ _Even so_. A pirate’s lady never deals with riff-raff.” 

She smiles to herself but quickly grows serious. 

“Killian.”

He looks straight into her eyes at her calling. 

“I love you. I love being in this house with you and Henry. And someday I want to marry you. Or not. I don’t think I really care,” Emma comes to the realization the instant she says it. “Just as long as you know I’m by your side for the battles too…forever.” 

“Yes, Emma. I know.” He moves up a step to kiss her forehead. 

“Good.” Emma pecks his lips. They finally finish their decent up the stairs when Emma comments, 

“And I guess he was kinda spindly looking.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read!


End file.
